


Drabbles and more

by LKChoi



Category: SHINee, Shinhwa, VIXX
Genre: 2min - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Deleted Scenes, Drabbles, Fic Dump, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Smut-ish, jongtae - Freeform, platonic, raken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-02-22 17:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13171983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LKChoi/pseuds/LKChoi
Summary: A collection of drabbles, scrapped fics and deleted scenes





	1. Shinee - Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> It was about time I did this lol. Sometimes stories flop or only become short scenes. I also often feel insecure with how things are written. I’ll like the plot but not the writing, or I’ll like the characterization but not the plot. At even rarer times, I will write a perfectly good scene but I can’t find a place for it within the fic it was intended for, in which case, I simply hold onto them. These circumstances often lead to incomplete stories that I end up too afraid to even touch again or I’m just too lost to finish. I need to collect my life and I really should get my ideas out instead of letting them rot in my docs. So, um, here ya go ^^ lol 
> 
> PS: For now, this collection is Shinee dominated, but it will also include fics from multiple other fandoms. It depends on what happens later down the line in the writing process as well as what I find sitting in my files lol. I will update the story tags and tag individual chapters accordingly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taemin almost dies, and only one thing can save him
> 
> Tags: Jongtae, angst

 

Taemin sits at the center of a room, completely surrounded by darkness. It had always been small and there was never an exit. He felt claustrophobic just thinking about it.

He knows he can’t escape.

So, he just cradles his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth, waiting to wake up from the familiar nightmare. His own erratic breathing is the only sound filling the space, which echoes with every exhale.

No light penetrates the dark space, which seems to shrink with every unsteady inhale. His heart pounds through his throat and the passage of oxygen is further closed off, making him feel nauseous. His shirt clings to him, dampened by the sheen of sweat coating his skin.  

Suddenly, everything intensifies. His breath pushes out of his lungs, labored and wrecked as his heartbeat fills his ears. His clothes blend with his flesh, drenched like the fringe stuck to his forehead. The room is shrinking by the second. A wall presses into his back as another press at his toes. He wants to shout for help, but all he can do is sob as walls squeeze his legs and back and now his arms together, crushing him on all sides.  

Taemin screams. His words are incoherent. He knows it’s all in his head, but he feels his organs bunched up in his stomach and the pain of his breaking bones. Just when he feels like he’s about to die a bloody pulp between the walls of the dark room, a sharp streak of light bursts through the ceiling. Taemin’s head falls back, and his body aches all over, but the light is blinding and is taking away the pain. Then he hears it, a familiar voice that heals his crushed body and fills him with warmth as the pain fades away.

Still, Taemin feels like he’s about to die. A painless and peaceful death, but death nonetheless. He accepts it this time. Lets his body and his will go all in one calm exhale. Allows what remains of the space to be filled by the soft and hazy light. His eyes flutter closed, and just before he slips away he is shaken, and all of a sudden, he awakens, coming face to face with his savior.

He breathes for what feels like the first time, his heart thumping steadily in his chest, his mind hazy but his eyes fixing on his source of stability. He feels overwhelmed with relief, warmth and love. He reaches his sweaty palms out to touch cheeks that flush pink on contact. Taemin smiles weakly, his eyes watered with burning tears and his entire being filled to the brim with love for the man smiling back. And with one word, Taemin knows that he’s fine again. That he’s out of that room. That every time it threatens to kill him, he will live.

And in one breath, with one word, he expresses everything he’s feeling and that understanding is the greatest thing that life could ever give him.

“Jonghyun...”


	2. Shinhwa - Lost In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was supposed to mean nothing. Then she slowly turned into something. Now it meant everything.
> 
> Tags: ricsyung, angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations to 4d leader Eric Mun on his marriage. This fanfic is a work of fiction, with no intent to stir the pot. I truly wish for his happiness. That aside, I also have a very dramatic imagination. So, like, uhm…THIS happened lmfao.

“Why?”

It was a simple question, yet the most difficult one he’d been asked his entire life. Coated in sadness. Dripping with hurt. Stinging with anger. It meant so many things that he could only guess at, but he didn’t have to, because the pained expression on Hyesung’s face said it all.

Eric sighed, meeting his eyes as he towered over him, feeling defeated as he said nothing. They were in his apartment, but the cozy living room seemed so unfamiliar to him. They had spent so many nights here together, cuddled up on the couch, all smiles, giggles and playful kisses. Now, the black leather two-seater was the only thing that remained, everything else in the room tucked away in cardboard boxes piled everywhere.

It was no longer a sofa. It was a cold metal chair. His hands were strapped to the armrests, his feet bound to the floor by the same metal. Hyesung’s eyes scorched with rage were spotlights overhead, beating down on him as he pleaded his case. It was an electric chair. His crime? Immeasurable pain and suffering. Hyesung was his victim, judge, jury and executioner.   

Eric swallowed the large lump that formed in his throat. He felt it sink down his esophagus, tumble along his spine, and crash into the pit of his stomach. It hurt, both the question and his answer, but he had to speak it nonetheless.

“Because I love her.”

Love, what a funny word. Hyesung would laugh out loud if he could get pass the pain in his chest. Eric used that word so many times in their long history together that he lost track of the meaning.

I love Shinhwa, I love our music, our friendship. I love your voice Hyesung-ah, I love your beautiful eyes. I love being close to you, being inside of you. I love you more than anything in the world, I’ll never love anything or anyone else.

Love. Eric apparently _loved_ this woman. He loved her company, her scent, her personality, her heart. He loved it so much that he couldn’t see his life without it.

He _didn’t_ love Hyesung. He never truly did, or else he wouldn’t be doing this to him right now.  

Hyesung actually laughed. In spite of his heart slowly breaking. In spite of the homicidal intent growing ou of anger. In spite of the fear in Eric’s eyes. He out-right cackled. Or, maybe _because_ of those things, he laughed twice as hard.

“So, what we had was a fling,” Hyesung chuckled with a full shrug.

Eric cast his eyes down. He would never dream of minimizing the way he felt for the ballad singer, nor disrespect the bond they’ve had since they were teenagers in such a way. He loved Hyesung, _cherished_ Hyesung, but he had grown to love his fiancée in an entirely unexpected way that he couldn’t put in words yet felt completely in his heart.

Their relationship had to end.

“Hyesung-ah-”

“Save it,” Hyesung interrupted coldly. “I’m happy for you. I really am. I just can’t…”

Hyesung clenched his hand into a fist, his nails digging crescents into the skin. He refused to cry. Not here. Not now. He meant it when he said he was happy for his long-time friend. Truly. But the fact that _he_ wasn’t the one who could provide that wounded him. It cut so deep, and the blood burst from within, seeping through his veins, filling his entire pain that made him want to scream.

But he didn’t. Instead he smiled and reached forward, making Eric flinch when he lightly patted his shoulder.

“Congratulations,” Hyesung said in a soft voice, and before Eric could respond, turned around and walked away.

Eric huffed as tears welled in his eyes, burning as they pushed over the rim and tumbled down his cheeks. He was stunned, shaking, regretting.

That smile was the cruelest thing Hyesung could have done.

Eric wished so bad that Hyesung hit him instead. That he used him as a punching bag and threw every curse word in the dictionary at him. That in Hyesung’s hysteria, he would realize that he made the wrong decision.

But instead he smiled, wished him well, and left him to sit with the decision. To spend the last night in his apartment alone, hurting, regretting. Knowing that the wedding was two months away, and that the slam of the door as Hyesung left was the last intimate moment they would ever share.


	3. Shinee - 2min Gamers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There Goes My Baby” deleted scene
> 
> Tags: 2min, platonic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a pleasant flashback sometime at the start of the fic, but I ended up doing other things. I kept it because it was cute :3

“Fuck yeah!” exclaimed Minho, leaping from the couch. Taemin dove sideways, Minho’s Xbox One controller just barely missing him when it bounced hard after he threw it down.

“Congratulations,” Taemin deadpanned, rising from his seat. “You almost killed me with that thing.”

“No worries, Taemin-ah,” Minho beamed. “Not like you’d feel it after I obliterated you.”

It was a casual day off at the dorm. Key was resting comfortably at his apartment, and had texted them saying he’d see them at practice the next day. Of course, it wasn’t worded nearly as kindly. Minho had asked him to come over and watch movies, to which he replied:

“I see enough of your ugly mugs daily. Need my beauty sleep to recover from exposure. See you tomorrow.”

Jinki was in his room, listening to somber Park Hyo Shin ballads as he studied a script he was offered. Jonghyun was located elsewhere, either crying while watching a drama, or cuddling with the enormous handmade Roo plushie he received from a fan. That left Minho and Taemin, who just like any other idle day in the dorm, decided to waste away playing video games.

They had spent the last hour going back and forth in Mortal Kombat, neither willing to admit defeat or say how cool a fatality looked when their own characters were subjected to them. They were tied for the fifth time when Minho struck the fatal blow to Taemin’s fighter, and in the next second, he was cheering at the bloody heap on screen. Taemin just rolled his eyes as Minho celebrated.

This feeling was something that Minho enjoyed. Not just the savory taste of victory, or the bragging rights gained from wiping a grin off of Taemin’s face. He loved moments when instead of chasing after his admired hyungs, he could be one himself. He had shown Taemin the ropes on his favorite video game and got a proper challenge once he learned. Of course, he couldn’t surpass his greatness, but still.

“Ah, really,” Minho laughed breathlessly. “Don’t sweat it. You put up a good fight.”

Taemin just glared at him with his arms folded. Minho frowned, then grinned widely, deciding to irritate him further. He circled around him and poked at both his shoulders, peaking at him alternately from left and right making random faces. Taemin stared straight forward, ignoring his pestering for a good minute before Minho’s fingers poked at his armpits.

Taemin snorted and curled into himself, laughter erupting as Minho pursued his ticklish armpits.

“Ya!” Taemin shrieked when Minho pulled him back and onto the couch. He landed in his lap, tickling him continuously until his butt hit the controller.

“Ow!” yelped Minho.

Taemin laughed harder and struggled back to his feet.

“That’s what you get.”

“Done for the night?” Minho asked as he dug the device from beneath him.

“Nah, just grabbing a beer. Want one?”

“Sure, thanks.”


	4. VIXX - Audio Sessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravi tries to get some work done, but when Ken comes in wanting some attention, he finds it hard to resist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raken to the left. Raken to the right. Their fluffy affections cannot be avoided. It was only a matter of time before I wrote something for them. Lol. So, enjoy.
> 
> Tags: raken, fluff, smut-ish

The door of the studio opened with a long creak. Ravi turned his head in time to see a sharp nose, followed by a bashful smile and soft eyes. Without a word, he turned about, focusing once again on the machine of recorded sounds, fiddling with silver nods and synthesizers while grinning.

Knowing that grunt behind him was a dissatisfied one. Knowing that a pair of big feet covered in Snoopy socks were padding across the room. Knowing that the other boy would probably stop right behind his chair, fiddling with the long yellow sleeves of his shirt, regretting his disruption.

_Cute._

Wonshik would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he took some perverse pleasure in denying Jaehwan attention at times. He was so used to dumping heaps of affection on him. Back hugs on the set of music video shoots. Snuggles in the company van when a long grueling day turned to night. Toying with his earlobe, with his other arm slung over his shoulder, whispering:

_Such a cutie._

But there was something about the times when he didn’t. When he was so distracted that he failed to take notice of the other boy’s minuscule initiations. Times when he was zoned into looking at the ground, recalling step sequences that came back much slower to him than to the other, leaving him without the same leisure to play around. It was his fault, after all, for spoiling his hyung so much. Sometimes he simply wanted the same, but of course would never admit it.

However, Jaehwan was no idiot. He knew what Wonshik was doing, ignoring him. He knew it wasn’t out of anger, and that even when the rapper was focused on work; he never really denied him. He couldn’t ignore his presence forever. Surely when he called him over to his private recording studio so late at night, that was the furthest thing from his mind.

Jaehwan could just imagine Wonshik grinning as he manipulated recorded sounds, pretending that him being there wasn’t enough of a distraction. He huffed and stepped closer, fixing his mouth in a pout before swirling the chair around to face him.

“I’m going to sleep,” he said defiantly, like a child who was denied a bedtime snack.

“You can’t do that,” Wonshik chuckled, reaching forward to interlace their fingers, slowly pulling him near. “I’m not done recording.”

Jaehwan was turned about and pulled down, settling easily in Ravi’s lap. He folded his arms and huffed, while Ravi tucked his chin onto his shoulder and pecked his neck. He bit his lip and leaned his head to the left, cutting off access to his skin. Wonshik grinned and snuck into his right shoulder, repeating the action.

“But you’re not recording anything.” Jaehwan fussed, failing miserably at not sounding whiny. “I’ve been here for two hours and it’s almost one in the morning.

Wonshik trapped his earlobe between his lips, nibbling on it as he held Ken’s hips firmly, pulling him flush against his chest as he flicked it with his tongue.

“I could record you moaning,” he husked against his ear.

That made Ken’s breath hitch and his back arch, his butt grinding into Wonshik’s pelvis in the process. He flushed pink, embarrassed with how easily he was giving in. But God, just the thought of that sent so many images rushing through his mind.

Wonshik pressing into him in the corner of the booth. A mix of their quivering voices echoing through the speakers. EIf he was being entirely honest with himself, the prospect of Leo accidently coming across the recording and cringing at the sounds excited him twice as much.

When Ravi pushed up, Jaehwan reached down and clutched the arms of the chair, gripping the leather tightly. He whipped around and stared at Wonshik, who grinned back. He was hard, and by the bulge pressed against him, Jaehwan could tell just how much.

…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Please don’t kill me T_T


	5. Shinee - Like A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taemin battles with his frustrations as a man. No one sees him as such. No one, except for Jonghyun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Jongtae, insecurities, angst, smut

The restroom was empty, save for one closed stall and the sound of flatulating emerging from within. Two men occupying individual urinals side-eyed Taemin as he waltzed up to the next one available. Even when he unzipped his jeans, he could still feel their calculating glances washing over his body. It was clear to him that the sound of his grungy voice when he cleared his throat purposely didn’t diverge the attention from his delicate facial features, long hair extensions and slender build.

This was Taemin’s struggle during Shinee’s Lucifer era, as it had been his entire life. Not the choreography. Not the group’s surge in popularity. Not the rare specs of creepy sasaeng fan letters. His gender identity, which came to question to everyone except the members and people who truly knew him.

Fuck it. Nature calls. Who were they to deny him the relief to his bladder? So, just like that, even as the idiots peeped pass the divider to confirm his gender: he pulled out his dick and proceeded to take care of his business.

Because no matter how pretty he was, and how stunned those men were: he was, indeed, a man.

…

His _Danger_ era was no different. Emerging as a solo artist and exuding charismatic charms of his very own on stage did not help him to escape the box he was shoved into off stage. He was “precious” and “cute” for several reasons. Losing track of his phone a second after putting it down at his side. Wandering off into oblivion whenever any of his four trusted hyungs didn’t directly lead him from point A to point B. Apparently, there was also something about the way he ate, which he simply couldn’t fathom. All these things were ridiculous. Who doesn’t lose things every now and then? Sometimes maps can be confusing. And who _isn’t_ enthusiastic about food?!

Now the fans were starting to see it; the innermost part of him screaming to get out. Hashtag Lee TaeMAN. A boy who at any given moment could disappear and be replaced with a man who dripped with charisma and pure sex. His hands raking through thick silky hair. The fine lines that carved his newly formed abs and v-cut at his waistline. The glisten of sweat off his skin as he danced breathlessly beneath scorching spotlights…

But after breaking his feminine shell, that’s still not who he wanted to be. Before he knew it: Press It happened. Press Your Number happened. Sayonara Hitori happened. That image escaped him. The man the fans fell for is who they were meant to be enticed by. It was basic marketing and entertainment. A stage persona.

But the man he wanted his peers to acknowledge was still trapped deep within him. He was never doubted as an artist, and certainly not as a dancer, but no matter what he did he still had to clear his throat walking into the men’s room. They still called him Taeminnie. He was a highly respected sunbae, yet still regarded as that pretty introvert with the Brady bowl cut from 8 years ago.

Nothing changed. No one’s perceptions changed. No one; except for Jonghyun.

…

Taemin’s head swam with those thoughts. It was triggered after their last meeting with some Japanese advertisers. Taemin had received a love call practically begging him to be the new face of their new shampoo. Smooth, fragrant and good for the scalp. A soothing wash that would make you “bloom like a rose.” Taemin didn’t hesitate to deny them, making his wish to verge very far from that image clear. The whole thing was nothing but a migraine, and he was relieved that due to Shinee and his own solo success that he was in a position to actually reject them.

The sashimi he ate together with the group did not relieve the stress. The sea of glittering lights of the major metropolis from Tokyo Tower didn’t sooth his bruised ego. And even now, the warmth of Jonghyun’s breath heating his neck was doing little to distract him.

Yes, Jonghyun was the only one who acknowledged and embraced that trapped part of his soul. Taemin was a puzzle, that only the singer-songwriter could unravel. Then again, this was the same man who could sing about lunar orgasms while looking like a pink ball of fluff. That duality was what connected them, but also drove him crazy. How could Jonghyun do it, yet he could not?

Jonghyun pulled his face out of the crook of Taemin’s neck and glanced up at him. Taemin glanced back regretfully, fearing that he might have hurt his feelings. Jonghyun smiled and cupped his face, smoothing his cheeks with his thumbs.

“Tae-baby,” he said sweetly.  “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that,” Taemin reassured him. “There’s just a lot on my mind.”

Jonghyun’s hands slipped off his face and clasped his hands. He brought them up to his lips and kissed the knuckles gently.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

The soft yellow light of the hotel room fell upon them, making Jonghyun look twice as angelic as he already was. He never demanded answers from Taemin, never criticized what spurred on his moods. He simply waited and listened. But Taemin had spent his entire life having these talks, and even with Jonghyun, got tired of the sound of his own voice complaining.

Taemin was a man. A creature of action. Right now, all he wanted to do was get away from those toxic thoughts and bury himself so deep into Jonghyun that it would be impossible for him to feel like a separate person.   

“Jonghyunnie,” he said softly.

“Ne, Taemin-ah?”

Taemin slipped a hand to the back of his neck and rested the other on his hip. The look in his eyes was smoldering, so intense that it made Jonghyun’s breath hitch.

“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think. I just…”

Jonghyun followed Taemin’s lead, stepping back as he stepped forward until his back hit the wall. Taemin rested his forehead against Jonghyun’s and closed the gap between them, placing one hand just above his head while the other gripped his hip. Jonghyun flushed and clung to Taemin’s shirt, shuddering when Taemin used his thigh to push up between his legs, grinding against the bulge forming in his impossibly tight jeans. Taemin inched even closer, his hot shaky breath grazing Jonghyun’s neck until his mouth clamped down on it to suck a hickey into the skin, evoking a desperate keen from Jonghyun.

A coolness settled over the sensitive spot after he pulled away, only for more heat to spread throughout Jonghyun’s body when Taemin lapped at his earlobe and husked;

“I just need to be inside you.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, I’m just mad at myself lol


	6. Shinee - RIP Gucci

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Key is seething after the tragic loss of his precious Gucci. Minho tries his damnedest to make it all better.
> 
> Tags: Minkey, platonic, humor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on an incident at Shinee World V. A quote that has gone down in kpop history. “But it wasn’t a dryer. It was my Gucci. And it burned.” I imagined Minho doing random little things to cheer Key up, but in my head, it snowballed and I couldn’t figure out what more to write. This little blip was fun though XD

Watching Kibum sit in a chair when he’s angry was like witnessing the Queen of England waving her small white gloved hand at a crowd. Every movement, deliberate and regal, but most of all; powerful. He lowered himself into the soft cushion, as if giving it permission to embrace his bottom into its folds. He crossed one leg over the other, the simple motion languid and effortlessly graceful.  

His glance froze the air. A glint in his brown eyes brought a steely chill over the room, making Minho shudder when he moved to approach him. Kibum crossed his arms over his chest and looked down, studying the shiny silver bag in the tall rapper’s hands, watching as he sat it down at his feet.

“What is _that_?” His highness inquired, dissatisfied before even seeing what it was.

“I know it won’t replace the one you lost,” Minho began nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “but I got you a new jacket.”

Kibum peeped into the shopping bag, noting gray cuffs lined with sparkling pink. All too familiar with the latest line, he knew exactly which jacket it was. It was impressive that Minho actually picked it, but knowing him, he probably just grabbed the first thing featuring the color pink and took it to the register without a second thought.

He truly did appreciate the effort, (and money), Minho put into buying a new one, but he couldn’t show it. He was still seething, his fury burning hot, much like his precious jacket did over that stage light.

Coincidently, the one Minho bought was Key’s third choice when he went shopping. Just recollecting that fateful day when he whipped out his platinum card and brought his precious Gucci made his heart hurt. Now it wasn’t hanging gloriously in the closet. No, it was gone. Ruined.

Because it burned.     


	7. VIXX - The Great Escape deleted scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Great Escape” deleted scene
> 
> Tags: Raken, fantasy, Shangri la

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, this is what it might have been like if Wonshik had woken up with Jaehwan instead of alone. Won’t explain my reasoning beyond that because spoilers. Please go check out this ongoing Shangri La based story if you are interested ^^

When Wonshik opened them again, he was glancing up at wooden beams layered across a high ceiling. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, quickly realizing that all he experienced was nothing but a dream. He propped himself up on his elbows and they sank into the softness of the cushion beneath him. He was lying on a large futon, his school uniform still on and his blazer gathered where it was grabbed.

_That’s right, I was…_

Wonshik vaguely recalled being chased after school and getting lost, but the rest of his memory was choppy. Someone found him. Someone exotically beautiful who smelled of peaches. At some point, he almost fell somewhere cold and dark. Was it a ditch? A cliff? He didn’t know. But that beautiful boy yanked him by his jacket, saving him.

Wonshik had landed hard on a rough flat surface after that. He didn’t remember what it was, only the impact when he hit his back. Then there was a soft, warm hand on his cheek, and gentle brown eyes fixed to his own. Then all was calm, quiet and peaceful, just like the end of his dream.

Then nothing.

Wonshik must have fallen asleep after that, tired from running after who knows how long, but he was saved and had that boy to thank. A boy whose name was…

“Jaehwan.”

As if summoned by his name, that very same boy let out a sheepish yawn. Wonshik glanced around the room in search of him, coming to the realization of just how nice it was. He sat up completely and stretched out his legs, making tiny observations about the place as he looked around.

It was simplistic and traditional, the type of spacious bedroom found in most hanoks. It seemed brand new, like something built in the last few years instead of centuries ago. The blanket covering his large futon was soft and white, like a thick cloud covering the entirety of it, A partition stood in a back corner of the room, an intricate pattern across the panels of gold outlined in red. It was positioned diagonally, leaving space to walk behind it to a closet with sliding doors of the same pattern. A light breeze drifted through the room, but the floor radiated with warmth, highlighted in spots where the sunlight beamed in.

However, unlike most modern bedrooms there was no other furniture. No small chests or dressers for storage. No trinkets left behind by a resident or visitor. No picture proof that anyone precious like friends, family or even a pet existed. Just a place for sleep and changing. It was as if the room was meant for a person who had nothing important to hold onto. Either that, or a place where those who visited left just as quickly as they arrived.

A chill crept up Wonshik’s spine, and a sudden feeling of dread descended upon him. As if something in his gut was telling him not to be fooled, that there was definitely something off about the place.

However, that feeling drifted to the back of Wonshik’s mind when he finally laid his eyes on Jaehwan. He was dozing with his back to the door, its screens open to the view of a beautiful lush garden. The sun beamed in behind him, creating a halo of light about his head, shining off specs of gold floral patterns on his blush pink robes. 

The brightness didn’t seem to bother him at all, in fact, it seemed a natural veil over him. Bathed in warmth. Untouched by the cold. Or so, that’s what Wonshik’s hazy mind believed, and even as Jaehwan’s eyes slowly peeled open, he could find no reason to think otherwise.

Jaehwan yawned again and stretched, doing a little shimmy as his arms rose over his head. A cute gesture. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” he said mid-stretch, dropping his arms immediately.

“Yeah,” Wonshik replied in a groggy voice. “Where, where are we?”

“Shangri La silly,” Jaehwan said nonchalantly, as if that knowledge was inherent to Wonshik.

“You’re not making any sense,” Wonshik said hysterically.

Jaehwan opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it after, scratching the side of his prominent nose as he contemplated what exactly to say. He dropped his hand and sighed, then climbed to his feet and approached Wonshik.

Wonshik fumbled back onto his elbows, heat rising to his cheeks as Jaehwan stopped just a few inches shy of the futon. He was twice as beautiful up close as he was from across the room, the sun beaming behind him creating an angelic highlight of his figure as he stretched offered his hand. A cool aromatic breeze blew into the room, giving off that same overwhelming peach scent as his pastel robes tossed in the wind and a warm smile spread across his delicate features.

“Come with me. I’ll show you.”


End file.
